


Why Can't All Aliens Be This Nice?

by Canon_Is_Relative



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2013-09-21
Packaged: 2017-12-27 06:37:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/975619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canon_Is_Relative/pseuds/Canon_Is_Relative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nine, Rose, and the evils of extraterrestrial dairy products</p><p>500 words. Prompt: Schizophrenic Ice Cream Come</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Can't All Aliens Be This Nice?

Rose snuck up behind the Doctor and linked her arm through his, earning her a jump and his best glare. She grinned.“Everyone here is so nice. Why can’t all aliens be this nice?”

“What’s so ‘nice’ about them,” he asked with a token attempt at shaking her off.

“That bloke,” she turned, releasing his arm to wave back at the vendor and giving the Doctor a look at what she held in her other hand. “He wouldn’t let me pay him. Said he’d ‘die of shame’ before he took my money.”

“That’s because it’s poison, give it here.”

Skipping away, she lifted the electric blue ice cream cone out of reach. “Looks good, innit? How’s this then, _you_ promise to be a nice alien for the next century, and _I’ll_ consider sharing.”

He didn’t chase her, just stood there with his Serious Face on, warning her to listen. “Rose, that’s not ice cream. Didn’t I _just_ tell you, the only place you get milk is out of cow, and the only place in _all_ the universe you get a cow is on Earth. Does this look like Earth to you? No. Ergo, not ice cream. Give it.”

He gave a grim smile when she pouted and handed it over. “Now,” he said, pulling out his sonic screwdriver, “milk, as you can imagine, is a top commodity across the galaxy. The genetic farmers on this planet have managed to create themselves a passable imitation of a cow but he problem, of course, is that they feed their crockpot cows on sentient grass. And what does sentient grass lead to? Ta-da. Sentient food. You’d’ve been dead before you finished digesting.”

She pressed a hand to her mouth, grimacing as a melty face appeared in the blue blob, forming and reforming out of drips. It was howling, its voice barely audible over the sounds of the market.

“Eeeeeaaaaat meeemememmmmeeeee…” Two bulges appeared in its sides like arms and it reached out for her. “Youuuuououuu deessserrrrve meeemememmmmeeeee”

She recoiled and looked up the Doctor. “Blimey. Well that’s me off sweets forever. What is it?” 

“I told you, it’s sentient food.”

“But…if it was gonna kill me…why’d he give it to me?” She looked again for the vendor, but he’d disappeared into the crowd.

“Oh, I dunno, just being _nice_ , I suppose.” She glared. He relented. “You’re human. He could smell it on you a mile off. Your body’s not engineered to process this garbage, so it processes you instead. The Chizurba are galaxy-renowned recyclers. You would have fed that nice chap’s family for a month.”

He regarded the thing thoughtfully, then gave it a lick. She yelped.

“Iron stomach, me,” he said, slinging an arm across her shoulders and leading her on. 

“You owe me a century of good behavior for that,” she elbowed him in the ribs.

“Any chance of bargaining you down to a solid fifty years?” She laughed, and he licked the face off the sentient dessert. 


End file.
